Obligatory Legal Mumbo Jumbo
J.K. Rowling created the Potterverse. Not me. Don't sue-I will plead insanity, and will win. Oh yeah, if by any chance you actually think CC is good, ask to borrow her. Feel free to create a character like her, give her another name and give me zero credit, too. Imitation (no matter how subtle) is the greatest form of flattery, and as we all know, flattery will get you everywhere
A/N:
As always, doubts will be answered, if I have time. This happens more often than you think.Chapter 7
BOS
I guess it's strange the way things turn out. Dumbledore sat across from me in his circular, oddly comforting office, and slid this book across the table. It's a plain black book, but I will change that soon. I guess he realised I needed to sort out my feelings-they feel so muddled. I guess is should start at the beginning, it would benefit me after all.
Strange that I would want to keep a thing that feels so much like a diary. It would be strange to Ron and Hermione, at least. The Dursleys never let me keep a diary, so I guess that influenced me too. How everything's changed.
I realise I'm eluding the subject. So I'll stop. When I was small, and the Dursleys had somewhere to go, they would make sure o rub it in my face that I was not going. They would, instead, leave me at Mrs. Figg's house- she became not only a neighbour but also my babysitter. I wasn't the only she used to baby-sit, though.
Alas, I was one of three. She often let us play together, and we instantly became best friends. I understood the Dursleys weren't to know this, so I kept quiet in front of them, especially Dudley. That's the only reason I didn't blow him up when he taunted me about being a loner.
My best friends were Draco Malfoy and Clarissa Cambridge.
Being naïve little children, of course we told each other about our lives. Draco and Clarissa taught me all about magick. One time we saw Dudley walking up the street and we wished hard he would trip. It was so funny when I found out he had tripped on a tomato plant and now stood before me, hair and skin covered in diluted patches of red. I was glad they had taught me how to conceal my feelings; I just looked at him innocently and asked what had happened. Sure, Uncle Vernon beat me when he found out, because even if it wasn't my fault he would blame it on me anyway, but this time I had a spark of triumph.
Those days seem so short a time in comparison to the lonely life I held. I was never told why, but I remember the word obliviate echoing in my ears, and waking up as if those days had never existed. I still don't know how I broke through those memory charms now.
I wonder what life would be like if we hadn't been obliviated. It is probably happening in an alternate universe where I never had to pretend I am somebody else. The again, I'm sure that life has its drawbacks. Every one does.
Draco hasn't broken through the memory charms yet, and I'm thinking he never will. I could help him along if he wanted, or Clarissa could. I wonder how I will go through the school year having known Draco as wee tyke. Maybe it won't be so bad after all.
Oh yeah, might as well relieve the harder moments of this summer as well. I hadn't understood why Uncle Vernon had been being so much crueller to me lately. It all made sense yesterday. I had visions, beautiful and terrifying, of the past, present and future. Past lives, future lives; present facts I didn't know all flashed before my eyes. Dudley has developed some sort of disease. The doctor's think it might be Cushing's Syndrome or summat - and they have a very high chance of being right, as they are the best doctors money can buy. Since he found out, Uncle Vernon has been going to the Rat and Parrot, the nearest pub, and drowning his sorrows. Too bad he had to vent his frustrations on me. I guess him being intoxicated counts a little in his favour, and at least no one else in the house got hurt. I've proved I could deal with it. I just hope Dudley is okay. He is my mother's nephew after all. I hope Aunt Petunia is okay as well.
--Shynnagh Gial--
Harry closed the book. He held his hand over the cover, concentrating, the words flowing out of his lips as naturally as carbon dioxide. Then a hissing sound was heard. Parseltongue. He had just set a password to the still plain-looking book. He continued; he wasn't by any means finished. Silver stripes appeared, running down the book, and golden lettering surfaced on the cover. Harry now opened his eyes, and examined his handiwork. The cover looked like a stormy sky, the silver lightning strikes sizzling down. Across were three single golden letters that finished off the book, exactly as he had placed them in his mind.
B.O.S.
Book of Shadows.
